One More Step
by Notquiteharmless
Summary: A simple journey can be anything but. For Jaim, the end always seems to be one step away...


**Hello, and welcome to One More Step, the Chronicles of Jaim's life in Skyrim. This was inspired by the new Dawnguard DLC, and will be focused mainly on that. Serana will feature prominently, but she doesn't seem to be on the list of available main characters. Anyway. I hope you enjoy.**

Jaim's eyes flicked open, a bitterly cold wind brushing his cheeks. Nausea rose in his stomach, and the young traveller gulped fiercely, fighting down the urge to vomit over the edge of the cart. He blinked. A cart. Why was he in a cart?

A voice interrupted the newly roused elf's thoughts.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." Groaning, Jaim forced himself to look up, at the blonde Nord sitting across from him. The man was tall, and well muscled, wearing a heavy cuirass that tugged at Jaim's memory. A fighter then. Perhaps he could explain what was going on. Forcing his eyes closed for a moment, Jaim took a deep breath, and forced himself to speak.

"Yes..." He muttered. "Where are we?"

"Skyrim," the Nord replied. He glanced off to the right, down the cobble road, where a small town loomed in the distance. "On the way to Helgen, near as I can tell." The other man paused for a moment, considering. "You were trying to cross the border, weren't you? You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us- and that thief over there." The border. Screaming. Fighting. Yes. That was right. An ambush. Jaim forced a small smile, memory flooding back to him.

Another voice broke into the pair's conversation.

"Damn you and your bloody Stormcloaks. The Empire was nice and lazy till you came along. I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." The thief- he could be nothing else, for his dirty face and ragged clothes certainly didn't fit with the image this well groomed and fierce looking Nord fighter projected- looked angry, and Jaim was sure that had he not been restrained he would have attacked the blonde warrior. The Stormcloak, Jaim corrected himself. Not just a warrior- a Stormcloak. It explained a lot about their current situation at least. The Empire- for who else could have captured them?- though that both Jaim and this thief were Stormcloaks.

"They're taking us to the headsman, aren't they?" Jaim asked, cutting off the thief's tirade. The blonde Stormcloak nodded grimly. "Well then, what are the names of the men I'm to die with?" Jaim glanced at the other man, a Stormcloak too by his armour. The dark haired man had a gag over his mouth, and a vengeful look in his eye.

"I'm Ralof. And that," the blonde man proclaimed reverently. "is Ulfric Stormcloak himself." Jaim's eyes widened. The leader of the rebels, and trained in the Thu'um, the art of using the ancient language of the Dragon's to manipulate reality itself... A dangerous man. The ragged thief looked about ready to faint, staring at Ulfric with horror.

"Cal." The terrified thief squeaked.

Jaim gave his name in reply, inclining his head to his fellow prisoners. The thief had drawn in upon himself, and muttered fervently in what sounded like prayer to the Divines, but Ralof smiled at him with a grave sort of humour.

The man driving the cart turned, and snarled over his shoulder.

"Shut up back there." The speaker was an Imperial, wearing the leather armour and helm traditional of the Legion. Jaim frowned. He had no intention of losing his head, but an experienced swordsman could crush any escape plans before they even began. As the soldier turned back to face the road, Jaim lifted his hands to his face. Though his wrists were bound, the young man managed to extend one finger and hold it to his lips, pleading for silence in the oldest manner known to man or mer. Looking thoroughly confused, Ralof nodded. The dark-haired thief did not cease his desperate prayers, but Jaim saw the gagged man- Ulfric, if Ralof was to be believed- look on in interest.

Hunching over, Jaim crooked his right hand into a crude claw, and clenched it tightly. Within moments, it began to glow, purple-black light suffusing the air. A sharp keening noise screamed from Jaim's hand, but he coughed loudly to cover it. The guard didn't even bother to turn around. A spectral sword formed in Jaim's hand, glowing faintly. Seizing it's hilt with both hands, Jaim straightened, looking at Ralof once more. The Nord's eyes were wide, and his mouth crooked in a hopeful smile. Jaim reached over, and the Stormcloak held out his bound wrists, pulling them apart slightly. With all the freedom of motion allowed by his bonds, Jaim slashed downwards, his magical blade severing the rope with ease. Ralof grinned, and flexed his wrists. Jaim slowly laid his conjured sword on the floor of the cart, and slid it towards the Stormcloak with his foot.

Ralof seized the ghostly blade, and neatly sliced Jaim's bonds in two. Silently, Jaim motioned to the thief, and to Ulfric. Sliding along the cart's benches, Ralof quickly freed the pair. The dirty thief opened his mouth to thank the Stormcloak, but Ralof clamped his hand over the other man's mouth before he could say a word. The blonde Stormcloak loosened Ulfric's gag, and turned to the cart driver, sword held high. Jaim motioned him back, shaking his head. He rolled his shoulders, luxuriating in his freedom, and raised a hand. The Imperials had stripped him of all his possessions, and there was little chance he'd be getting them back now, but a mage was never without weapons.

Facing the driver, Jaim reached out a hand, curling it's fingers inwards so the tips brushed his palm. The elven mage flicked his fingers outwards, so that they pointed towards the driver, and a glistening green ball of light shot from his hand. The sphere smashed against the Imperial's back, dousing him in a sheen of emerald light. The driver visibly relaxed, letting his shoulders sag as the Calm spell took effect. Without waiting to see if the others followed, Jaim leapt from the cart, hitting the ground running and heading for the thick forest that lined the side of the road. Knowing that the people in the cart ahead of them could look back at any moment, Jaim sprinted for the treeline.

As he slipped between the large Skyrim pine trees, slightly out of breath from his sprint, Jaim considered his options. Originally he'd been headed for Winterhold, with hopes of joining the Mage's College. He'd hardly make it there now, not penniless, and wearing these rags the Imperials had dressed him in. Money then. Money was the priority.

"I suppose you think I owe you thanks." Jaim turned, startled at the voice. It was Ulfric, standing tall and majestic, with Ralof at his side. The thief- Cal- stood behind them, still trembling, whether from shock or from fear.

"Don't talk now," Jaim told him. "Keep walking." The so-called High King frowned, but followed the elf as he headed deeper into the woods.

"What are you playing at elf?" The man asked, as he strode after Jaim. "What do you and your higher-ups want with me?" Jaim halted mid-step, shocked. He turned, facing the older man.

"I'm sorry?"

"It is your kind that we fight against elf! You have no reason to free us, no reason to even be in that cart!" Jaim scowled, striding towards the man he had helped free. Ulfric may have had the muscle of years as a warrior, but Jaim towered over him, anger plain in his eyes.

"What are you implying Stormcloak?" The elf growled. Ulfric leant forwards, forcing himself inside Jaim's guard.

"I imply nothing elf. But if you think to tangle us in some plot of your masters, you'd best think again." Jaim's scowl deepened, and he pushed the other man back.

"It's about time you fools realized that not all Altmer sympathize with the Thalmor! And if you want to trade threats-"

Suddenly, a roar rent the air. Jaim and Ulfric staggered in opposite directions, thrown off balance by it's sheer force. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaim could see Ralof and Cal stagger.

"What-?" Cal asked uncertainly, in the silence that followed. Seconds later, another roar came... Stronger. Closer. And then a giant winged beast screamed through the air above them. Mouth hanging open, and throwing caution to the wind, Jaim stumbled to the edge of the road, eyes following the flying monster.

The thing was beating it's giant leathery wings slowly, it's flight taking it towards Helgen. Dimly, Jaim was aware of the Ulfric and the others following out of the forest, but his attention was on whatever it was that had given that roar. It was over Helgen now, spiralling in lazy circles as it descended towards the town. Jaim could just see it settle on top of the village's central tower. The thing opened it's colossal mouth and... _Shouted._

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

A spout of white hot flame erupted from the beast's maw, scouring the people below. Jaim's mouth fell open in shock- even horror perhaps. The thief had closed his eyes again, his face white as a sheet, and even Ulfric murmured a prayer to the Divines.

"Dragon." Jaim said, his throat dry and cracked. "It's... it's a dragon. It has to be." Screams rose from Helgen, as the myth made manifest tormented the town. Children's screams. Women's screams.

Ralof gulped.

"We have to help them," The blonde fighter muttered, but his eyes were wide, and his breathing shallow. Jaim licked his lips anxiously.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose we do." He said. With a sigh and curse for his own stupidity, he sprinted for Helgen.

The town was in chaos, fires sprouting from the buildings and civilians running everywhere, screaming for their loved ones. The dragon was impressive from this close. Impressive, and terrifying. It had four legs, and a long, curving tail. It's head was long, with two wicked horns sprouting from the top, and a mouth full of vicious teeth. The town guard, and a handful of the beat-up looking Legionnaires were attacking the beast, but to little effect. Only those with bows could harm it all- no swordsman was willing to go within a ten feet of it.

As Jaim ran towards them, one of the sword wielding Legion members, standing at the back of the huddled group, spotted him.

"General! It's the prisoners that escaped!" The man shouted, raising his sword. He looked ready to try and arrest Jaim then and there.

"Put it down fool!" Jaim spat scornfully. He gestured at the dragon, at that moment letting loose another shout of 'YOL TOOR SHUL!'. Tongues of fire leapt from it's cavernous mouth, scorching an area of ground in front of the beast. "I'm a mage, I've come to help."

The soldier's face contorted with conflict. Eventually, he nodded.

"Fine!" He gestured to the side of a house, where a row of moaning soldiers, burnt and scarred, lay. "Heal them!" Jaim closed his eyes, once more running his tongue over his lips. Finally, he spoke, regretting it even as he did so.

"No," he said shaking his head. "I'm- I'm not a Healer. I'm a- I'm a Battle Mage." Resolutely, Jaim turned towards the dragon. The soldier's eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open as he realized what Jaim intended to do.

"Divines bless you, you crazy bastard." The man muttered reverently. Sighing, Jaim glanced over his shoulder, to where he knew Ulfric and Ralof would be standing. The pair looked terrified, but determined.

"I need you to help me." He told them. "I need to get at it's head." Jaim raised a hand. "No questions. No time. Grab a sword from one of the wounded. Get it to look away from me."

"You're insane." Ralof whispered.

"Just do it!" Jaim snarled. "Do it or run in fear, but make your bloody choice!" Ralof glanced at his feet, and then straightened. He crossed to the line of wounded, and snatched up two swords. With a sigh, and a quiet 'It was an honour, my King', he offered the second to Ulfric. The Jarl of Windhelm took the blade, raising it above his head slowly. Turning to the dragon, his grip tightened, and the Stormcloak charged.

"Victory or Sovngarde!" he bellowed, and he ran for the beast, Ralof a step behind him. As they reached it's side, beginning to slash and hack at the thing's scales, Jaim darted forward.

The dragon's head was to the side, focusing on the new threat posed by Ralof and Ulfric. Guilt rose in Jaim, but the two seasoned warriors had more chance of surviving the beast's frontal attack than he did, an unarmoured mage. Still. His job would be no less dangerous. The Altmer knew full well that none of his spells would do any real damage to a dragon. Not from this distance. And so, clenching his fists, Jaim sprinted for the monster's head.

When he got within a foot, Jaim leaped, hurtling through the air... towards the dragon's head. One of it's horns slashed his side as he flew past, drawing blood and sharp, harsh pain. Jaim ignored it. If he paused now, he was dead. He landed heavily on the dragons, clutching at it's neck to stay on. With a roar, the dragon turned from Ralof and Ulfric, and shook it's head franticly, attempting to rid itself of it's unwelcome passenger. There was no time to think. He was losing his grip. The dragon was winning. Clenching his fist, Jaim summoned a globe of white hot fire, pouring as much magical energy into it as he could. And then the thin elven mage punched the dragon in the eye.

The initial force of the punch caused the dragon to howl in pain. And then Jaim spread his hand, releasing the pure force and heat of a overpowered fireball inside dragon's eye. The effect was immediate. A neat hole, the size of a melon, had been punched through the dragon's eye, searing it's way through the brain, which it fried in an instant. The gargantuan beast collapsed in a heap of dead flesh, dropping Jaim to the ground. The young elf fell forwards, landing heavily on his face. Relief surged through him. It was done.

Jaim forced himself to raise his head, and look at the crowd. The soldier's mouths hung open, their eyes wide and full of shock. Yet they were not staring at him. They were still watching the dragon. Frantically, terrified that the beast still lived, Jaim scrabbled in the dirt, turning to face it. What he saw amazed him.

The once terrifying dragon was... breaking up. Dissolving was the only word that fit. It's flesh was simply disappearing, revealing the gigantic skeleton that lay beneath. Moreover, a glistening light was spewing from where the dragon's heart should have been, and swirling through the air... into him. Jaim's mind raced. That light... it was identical to the glow seen when a Soul Trapped soul was pulled into a Soul Gem. Yet in this case it seemed the soul gem was Jaim himself. As the last of the light died down, energy fled Jaim's body. Exhausted, he turned to face the citizens of Helgen, and the soldiers that had tried to defend them.


End file.
